


More Hair, More Perfect

by daftalchemist



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Sex, Beard Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, NOT COOL, NOT COOL GUYS, Tentacle Sex, WHY IS THAT NOT A TAG??, beards are hot, but seriously beard kinks should be more common, sex octopus!Cecil, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftalchemist/pseuds/daftalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos accidentally grows a beard. Cecil accidentally goes crazy with lust when he sees it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Hair, More Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to antique-rain (on tumblr) who is very kind to beta my dirty, dirty smut
> 
> Also, everything Cecil does in this fic that isn't horrific body morphing is exactly what I want to do to any attractive dude with a really hot beard. Just saying.

Time had gotten away from Carlos as it always did when he was deeply entrenched in a scientific mystery. It had started when he noticed a strange rune carved into the cornerstone of the library, and another similar rune carved into the cornerstone of the town hall. They were impossibly detailed, and seemed to shift and distort if you stared at them too long. Days of fieldwork had unearthed that every major building in Night Vale had a symbol carved into it resembling all the others, but each different enough to be distinguishable from the rest if he squinted and tried not to look at them directly. Looking at them directly only made his head throb and feel dizzy.

He’d eventually decided that taking photographs of the runes would be more beneficial to researching their origin and purpose than spending hours in the terrible desert heat each day. So instead of sweating to death outdoors in his flannel and lab coat, he sat in his lab, staring at photos of runes that were _still_ shifting and distorting despite being two dimensional pictures, but at least he was losing his sanity in the comfort of an air-conditioned room.

The symbols were hypnotic and maddening in a way that made Carlos lose track of large swathes of time. Eating and sleeping ceased being priorities whenever he looked at the pictures, and he barely remembered to emerge from the lab to go to Big Rico’s. The worst part was that each time he regained his senses, he realized he hadn’t taken any notes, or tried to translate the runes, or attempted to do _anything_ scientific at all. No amount of concentrating he did on the task at hand produced results. He was just staring at photos as though they were staring back, and he didn’t want to be the first to blink.

It wasn’t until Cecil showed up knocking frantically on his door that he began to wonder if he’d been holed up in his lab a little longer than he’d intended. The moment Carlos opened the door, Cecil flung himself at the scientist, wrapping his arms around his neck as he sobbed incoherent words against his chest.

“Cecil, wha-?” he said, thoughts coming slow and groggy, and Carlos began to suspect he’d been staring at those photos for too long. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you might be dead!” Cecil shouted against Carlos’ chest, refusing to loosen his hold, refusing to do anything but nuzzle against Carlos like a cat desperate for long overdue attention.

“What? _Why_?” Carlos asked as he carded a hand through Cecil’s hair and rubbed his back to comfort him.

“Why do you _think_?” Cecil cried, and of course, it had been a stupid question. They lived in Night Vale. If someone suddenly stopped contact for a while, chances were good that they were dead. How long exactly had Carlos been staring at photographs anyway? Where were all his coworkers? How late was it that they’d all gone home and just...left him there to study?

“I haven’t heard from you in _two weeks_ and-” Cecil stopped short as he finally pulled away and stared up at Carlos with his red and puffy eyes slowly widening in awe, or fear.

“W-what is it?” Carlos asked, feeling a little afraid himself because Cecil was gripping his lapels and looking like a bobcat about to pounce.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Carlos’ back was slammed painfully against the floor, but before he could ask Cecil what the _fuck_ he thought he was doing, the radio host’s lips were crushed against his own as Cecil enthusiastically rolled his hips against Carlos’, and it was so unexpected and _confusing_ that Carlos immediately forgot about the pain in his spine. While he was certainly enjoying the attention, he still wanted to know what the hell was going on. Cecil would not relent, however, and Carlos was eventually forced to grab a fistful of Cecil’s hair and forcibly pry the host’s face away from his own.

“ _Cecil_!” he shouted between deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. “What the _hell_ are you doing?”

“Your hair,” he moaned, biting his lip seductively enough to stir up a lot of pleasant sensations in Carlos’ dick.

“Yeah, it’s perfect, I know,” Carlos groaned because he’d thought that obsession had been tempered some time ago. “But...the sudden interest?”

“Nooo,” Cecil whined. “Your _beard_.”

“My...my _what_?” Carlos’ free hand flew to his chin and...wow, he really did have quite a bit of facial hair. That was odd. He normally never got much farther past some unruly stubble before he took a razor to it, but now he had a decent amount of ruggedness going on. How long _had_ he been staring at those photos?

Cecil chanting a litany of adjectives including “perfect” and “beautiful” and “glorious” brought Carlos’ attention back to the grown man gyrating against him like a horny teenager and the warmth rapidly pooling in his groin.

“You’ve never had a _beard_ before,” Cecil breathed against Carlos’ ear.

“Y-yeah, I know. So?”

Cecil ran his tongue along the rough hairs on Carlos’ jaw and nipped at his earlobe. “I like it.”

Carlos shuddered at the hot breath against his neck and kicked the the door shut because they were two seconds away from needing a _lot_ of privacy.

Five black eyes with deep violet irises smoldered down at Carlos with sheer want, and Carlos grabbed fistfuls of Cecil’s hair and dragged the radio host’s mouth to his, sliding their tongues together, crushing Cecil’s lips against his own, wanting them to come away swollen and red. Cecil whined into Carlos’ mouth, ripping off the scientist’s belt and unbuttoning his slacks before breaking the kiss just long enough to lift his hips and shove the pants down below Carlos’ knees.

Carlos kicked off his shoes and wriggled the rest of the way out of the slacks, the hard tile floor incredibly cold on his legs, but he hardly cared. Cecil was putting on quite a show slowly manifesting his tentacles one by one as he pulled off his shirt, shimmied his jeans off of his narrow hips, and it was Carlos’ turn to to bite his lip in interest over the gorgeous sight in front of him. Then Cecil’s mass of slender iridescent tentacles was wrapped around his cock, and Carlos gasped with pleasure as the slick tendrils lavished it with attention. Cecil’s larger tentacles slithered over his chest, applying delicious amounts of pressure to his nipples, slipping up around his neck, rubbing lovingly against the facial hair that was driving his boyfriend completely mad.

Cecil was gorgeous, writhing on his lap while he watched with rapt fascination as his four larger tentacles wrapped Carlos in a tender embrace, the excited glint in his eyes noticeable even with his sclera black as the void. Carlos ghosted his hands over Cecil’s hips, running them up along his chest as Cecil leaned over for as though for a kiss, and pinned Carlos’ hands to the floor instead, the tender embrace suddenly tightening into a multitude of muscular restraints. Carlos whimpered in anticipation because this was new, and it was a little terrifying, but he trusted Cecil knew what he was doing.

The grin that split Cecil’s face was horrifying, filled with sharpened teeth as it was, and Carlos couldn’t help instinctively flinching and shouting “ _shit_ ” before remembering the fanged mouth that housed the forked tongue licking up his chin was harmless.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, partly because of how silly he felt and partly because he didn’t want Cecil to feel self-conscious about his appearance.

But Cecil either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care because he was still slavering over Carlos like some sort of horrible predatory cat, and then the tendrils engulfing his cock were moving, standing it upright and-- _fuck_ \--he was swallowed by the intense heat of Cecil’s hole, open and receptive as always, but squeezing so wonderfully around him as Cecil settled his weight on Carlos’ hips.

Carlos barely had a moment to gather his thoughts, to adjust to the excruciatingly wonderful sensations thrumming through his cock, before Cecil tightened his tentacles’ grip again, pinning Carlos’ arms to his side and forcing his head backwards until his chin pointed towards the ceiling, stretching his neck to its limit. He felt horribly exposed and vulnerable, and Cecil licking along the stubble under his jaw with those razor sharp teeth just millimeters away from his skin wasn’t helping his uneasiness even remotely. But then Cecil began rolling his hips, and none of the things he was doing hardly even mattered, not even the tentacles coiling around his thighs, as Carlos sucked in a shaky breath at Cecil’s muscles undulating in time with every movement, sinking him deeper into Cecil’s heat.

The tentacles that had slipped almost unnoticed around his thighs tightened then, pulling his legs upwards until his knees were bent, snaking around his ankles and pulling them towards him almost painfully as they pressed outwards, spreading his thighs, opening him up.

“Cecil, wha-?” Carlos tried to ask. He trusted Cecil, of course, but this was incredibly unfamiliar territory and Cecil was acting strangely, even for him, and a little reassurance would be welcomed, but...

“Shhhh,” Cecil hissed against Carlos’ neck as he stuffed one of the tentacles that had been caressing Carlos’ beard into his mouth. “No talking, just _feeling_.”

Carlos _was_ feeling. He was feeling a great many things. He was feeling a slick black and purple tentacle wriggling in his mouth and wrapping around his tongue. He was feeling his unbelievably aroused boyfriend nuzzling against his beard and the subtle vibration of him _purring_. He was feeling the gorgeous friction of Cecil’s body around his cock. He was feeling half a dozen tentacles steadily constricting around him, both suppressing his ability to move and opening and exposing him. And the newest thing he was feeling was a startled shout growing in his throat as another tentacle slipped down past his balls and pressed into his ass, just a little, just enough to rub incessantly at his prostate.

Carlos arched his back as he screamed, or he would have if the weight of Cecil and his tentacles didn’t have him pinned to the floor, and one of those tentacles thrusting deeper into his mouth, muffling his cries of pleasure. But Cecil had to have been able to hear him, his cheek nuzzled so closely to Carlos’ as he chanted “ _beautiful_ Carlos, _perfect_ Carlos” in time with each roll of his hips, which were steadily increasing in speed and still managing to be maddeningly slow, and it was driving Carlos _insane_. Cecil was drawing it out, squeezing around his cock enough to send such burning pleasure up his spine that it felt like it might actually catch fire, but too much to allow any release as Cecil rode him steadily, patiently, as though his “normal” personality had finally shattered and the Glow Cloud-worshipping Night Vale fanatic he probably hid underneath had finally come bursting forth in a fit of beard devotion sex rituals, and Carlos couldn’t even get a hand free to grasp the tendrils attempting to mate with his bellybutton and jerk Cecil to completion so he could finish as well. So Carlos did the only thing he could think of, and sucked on the appendage in his mouth.

The shuddering moan that issued from Cecil’s mouth was punctuated with the deepest violet blush Carlos had ever seen him wear, and the combination of the two made him feel like he would explode, which was fortunate timing because hollowing his cheeks as he ran his tongue along the bottom of the tentacle had the exact effect he’d been hoping it would. Cecil moaned lasciviously around short bursts of “perfect” and “wonderful” as he thrust himself against Carlos over and over, impaling himself on the scientist’s cock, squeezing him so perfectly as all the tension that had been building up in his groin coiled sharply and Carlos cried out around the writhing tentacle in his mouth as he came, unable to arch his back, unable to thrust deeper, unable to do anything other than be milked dry by the incredibly arousing and incredibly skilled man riding him.

Cecil had enough presence of mind to remove the tentacle from Carlos’ mouth so he could catch his breath, but Carlos had a better idea.

“Come here,” he instructed, and Cecil’s lips were pressed against his the very second he stopped talking, wrapping his forked tongue around Carlos’ and kissing him deeply. Carlos made good use of the close proximity by pressing as close to Cecil’s face as he could, scratching along his skin with his unruly facial hair, and Cecil whimpered and whined at the contact.

Carlos broke the kiss with a gasp as the tentacle that had been massaging his prostate a moment ago slowly wriggled free of him, slithering up through his legs to settle heavy on his stomach, twitching erratically against him, and Cecil choked back a sob. Carlos grinned wildly then sucked Cecil’s lower lip into his mouth to nibble at it, because if Cecil was going to jerk himself to orgasm this time, then Carlos was going to find _something_ to do to help him along.

Cecil’s cry was halfway between a squeal and a breathy warble, gasping for air as his body spasmed around Carlos’ softening dick and he coated Carlos’ stomach with viscous black fluid. His horrific countenance melted away instantly, and he collapsed exhausted onto the scientist, his tentacles slowly uncoiling and disappearing back into his body as he nuzzled at Carlos’ beard, making content sounds that weren’t entirely unlike purring.

“I uh,” Carlos started, half in a daze, and not because of photographs anymore. “I missed you too, Cecil.”

Cecil beamed down at him before leaning into plant innumerable kisses on every inch of his facial hair, and Carlos sighed.

“You aren’t going to let me shave, are you?” he asked.

“ _NO_!” Cecil shrieked as he jolted upright before nuzzling against Carlos’ cheek and whining, “Why would you _do_ that?”

“Because I don’t want a beard, Cecil,” Carlos chuckled as he wrapped his arms around the despairing radio host. “And, I mean, this was _fun_ and all, but...I can’t handle getting fucked like that _every single day_.”

Cecil groaned anxiously as he stared down into Carlos’ eyes and pleaded, “But I can control myself. I promise!”

Carlos smirked and stroked at his beard thoughtfully, testing a hypothesis. “ _Can you_?”

Cecil wailed and rolled his hips against Carlos’, immediately leaning in to suck and nibble at his jaw, and it took a bit more effort than expected for Carlos to stop him.

“Cecil, _please_ ,” he begged as he held his boyfriend at arm’s length, Cecil looking so pitifully dejected.

“ _Okay_ ,” Cecil pouted, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re brilliant and _right_ , and you can shave it, I _guess_...”

“How about I just keep it neatly trimmed instead?” Carlos asked with a smile, and the way Cecil’s eyes immediately lit up told him it was an acceptable compromise; one that would hopefully keep his hair-loving impulses under control. It was a perfect arrangement, and if Carlos ever wanted to be fucked into a coma again, he could just hold off on keeping it groomed for a day or two.

Absolutely perfect.


End file.
